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Alia's Loss
“So.” Aaron’s voice was tinny, over the radio. She could still hear him, which was something, but the quality wasn’t good enough to be mistaken for anything other than a transmission. She couldn’t use it to pretend that he was actually there with them. And not out there. About to die, thousands of miles away from home. “Still not, uh… still not seeing any rescue.” Every word sunk the knife a little deeper into her heart. “Plue, give it to me straight. Or gay. Whatever. Is there any way I’m actually going to survive this?” “I… don’t know.” She was forced to say. Because she herself had no idea how he could possibly survive, but the idea of admitting as much – and of saying out loud that he was going to die – was too much to bare. “Not that I know of.” “Knowing how much you know, that’s a pretty bleak forecast.” She heard him say. She wasn’t sure how to feel, besides an overwhelming sadness. Was there ever a time where she hadn’t been holding this phone to her hear, having this conversation, listening in on her soulmate as he lay trapped on a mountain? It didn’t feel like it. “So, uh, question totally unrelated to circumstances,” (a lie), “but what are the chances of me spontaneously morphing into some strange creature that just so happens to be able to withstand cold and exhaustion and a lack of oxygen?” “Zero.” She said, almost with no hesitation. Maybe, she figured, she could get through the “denial” stage of grief she’d read about before the thing had even happened. Ready herself for the blow they both knew was soon to come. “You sure?” He asked. He still sounded… so calm. It was almost annoying. Going about their day-to-day-life, he was the anxious eccentric and she was the one that had been the stable head of reason in their little family. That was how it’d always been. And yet, the moment things looked bad, she all but broke down while he – who was technically losing more here, what with him being the one actually about to die – sounded cool as a cucumber. It wasn’t fair. “I mean,” he continued, “there’s this tingling in my hands, and I was wondering if that was the onset of transformation.” “I… think that’s just frostbite.” She told him. “Hmm.” He sniffed loudly into the receiver. “Sunshine, permission to snark?” “Permission granted.” She said as she felt her fingers go numb in tandem with his (she was clenching the phone, really, far too tightly). “Your bedside manner could probably use some work.” She snorted and choked, caught off-guard by the blunt nature of the comment. There was a sting too it as well. He probably hadn’t meant for there to be a sting, of course, that wasn’t really something he’d do, but he did have a point. Was there nothing good she could say to him? No comfort? No advice? “Probably.” She said. “Oh- no, no, that’s not…” he trailed off, leaving her to wonder if, for the final time, he’d been able to effortlessly pick up on what someone was feeling. She still had no idea how he did it. “Hey. Plue.” He was speaking slightly softer now, and she liked to think it was because he was trying to be tender instead of because he was losing energy. Losing life. “I gotta say, I think now would be a great time for Will or someone to show up, you know?” “They…” She couldn’t say anything, one way or another. Couldn’t interrupt his flow. “It’s being a hero, you know?” He kept talking. His voice was still even. “All that “nick-of-time” stuff. That’d be nice. Do you think that’ll happen?” Plue remembered the message Will had sent her, about how he and a team had been sent on the six-hour trip from Nimbus Station to Frostburgh Beta. They’d left less than an hour previously. “No.” She whispered into the receiver. Aaron seemed to inhale deeply, like he was about to sneeze. Then he sighed – quickly, but it was still a sigh. A crack in the façade. Selfishly enough, she was almost relieved. A sign that she wasn’t the only one feeling something about everything. (What was worse, of course, she realised later, was the idea of him dying afraid.) “So… death it is.” He continued. There was no questioning this time, no tone that left room for alternative suggestions. It was a definitive statement, and the finality made her shudder from head to toe. She heaved a sigh. She felt like she was going to cry. Or be sick. Or both. Either would be a reasonable reaction, all things considered. She managed to restrain herself from either, at that moment. “Ah, crumbs…” Aaron muttered into the receiver. “I’m freezing my ass off.” “Is that literal?” She asked before she could stop herself. He laughed, and it was wonderful and painful to hear his laugh and the painful strain in it, the way it stopped far too suddenly. “Nah, not literally.” He paused for breath before continuing; a sign that the lack of oxygen was getting to him. She didn’t blame him, but it still hurt. “You know, that’ll be a good thing. The cold. When they find my body, I’ll be-” “Please don’t.” She suddenly didn’t have the strength to speak in a voice any louder than a whisper. Maybe it was all being spent keeping the emotions at bay. “Don’t… don’t say that.” A moment’s pause. Then: “Okay.” He said. “No gallows humour.” There was some more silence. “I’d wish you were here,” he said abruptly, “but that’d mean you’d be dying with me.” “''I'' wish you were here.” She admitted. There was no sound for a moment, then: “That sounds nice.” Said he. “What’d we do, if I were there?” “By this point, I think I’d be up for anything.” She admitted. “I’d let you take me on one of those walks, or we could go to a restaurant, or… I… I don’t know. Anything you wanted.” “Wow.” He said. “Surreal image.” “But a happy one, right?” She pressed him. He sighed. “A happy one.” He confirmed. “A good image to go out on, I guess.” “I know you wanted to see that one movie.” She said. “''Ruler of the sun''.” “Oh, yeah, that one! The one with, uh… what’s his face?” He’d never been able to remember the name of his favourite actor. It was grounding in some way, Plue thought, to know that death didn’t change a person. “Stuart Dashner?” She offered. He yelled in exhilaration, so loud compared to how he’d been talking previously that she was forced to pull the phone away from her ear. “Yes! Yes!” He cheered. “That’s the one! Oh, I can never remember his name!” “I know.” She reminded him. She did know, because she was always the one who actually managed to remember the name and then remind him of it. One of their many, many routines. “I…” she stumbled over her words, but tried to get them out. Denial. Getting through it. Working through the grief. She could do it. “I’ll go see it for you, yeah?” “Yeah.” He said. “Yeah, that’d be… I’d appreciate that.” Neither of them mentioned the fact that he’d never know for sure if she would actually go or not. (She had every intention of going. For what it was worth.) “There are two left in the series.” Aaron continued. “There are supposed to be twelve in total. I’ve seen them all except this one and the other one they haven’t finished yet.” “Oof.” Said Plue, on reflex. “Yeah.” He agreed. “Didn’t quite get there, in the end.” … She was crying, now. Silently, but it was there. “Let me just…” he kept monologuing, probably unaware of it. Talking into the receiver. Trying to fill the silence. Saying everything he could, everything that was on his mind at that moment, as if to compensate for the fact that he only had so many words left. “I’m remembering now that Gus had something on him he liked to call “happy juice”. No idea what it was supposed to be, but I may or may not be looking through his bag now.” She didn’t say anything, not trusting her voice to remain stable if she opened her mouth. The last thing she wanted to do was leave him with a memory of her crying helplessly, and she wasn’t sure if that was for the sake of his own peace of mind, or for her own dignity. Probably both. “We have here, some, uh… it’s a flask, I think but I have no idea what’s in it.” His voice lowered in quality. “I’m- uh- just going to taste what’s in it…” She didn’t hear anything for a little while – then, there was a hacking cough, and he returned to the receiver with a fresh rasp in his voice. “Okay, I don’t know what that was supposed to be.” He said. “It tasted like if lemons and nightmares had a baby, and it was worse than anything you’ve ever cooked. I don’t know why he called it “happy juice”. Sick bastard.” “M… maybe it was ironic.” She managed to get the words out without breaking down, but she’d be damned if it had been an easy feat. Aaron laughed. The knife twisted some more. “Eeh, probably.” He admitted. “That’s, like, the only way that name would make sense anyway. I refuse to believe that anyone actually thinks this tastes nice.” “People are weird.” She offered. “People are weird.” He echoed with a satisfied inflection. No more words were spoken for even longer, and when Aaron actually spoke up again, he sounded even weaker. She winced at the sound. “Hey, Plue…” He seemed to hesitate. “You’ll take care of ‘Anna, right?” “You kidding?” She tried to channel her incredulity, and leave behind her devastation. “She’s family, Aaron, just like you. I’ll raise her myself if I have to.” “Good.” He sighed. “Good. Will you, uh- I mean, she already knows me, obviously, but will you be sure to tell her anything you’d remember if she asks? I wanna-” he broke off for a moment that lasted for a century, “I wanna make sure she doesn’t forget her big brother.” “I… I won’t.” She promised. Meaning it like she’d never meant anything in her life before. “Her parents, too!” Aaron continued. “What I told you about them. What I showed you. I want you to show her someday. Pass that on. Please.” “I will.” She now swore. “I will. I will. Of course I will.” “T- Thanks.” He coughed. He heart skipped a beat. “Sorry, I just… I didn’t actually make a will or anything, so I figured I’d just get that out of the way.” “Do you want me to call a lawyer, or someone?” She wasn’t sure why she offered. Wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or not anymore. “Or my uncle?” “No. No!” She could just imagine him flailing his arms, and the mental image made her want to bawl. “There’s no-one I’d rather talk to you than you, right now, you know that?” “I…” She couldn’t, she couldn’t do this, she couldn’t sit here and talk with him like nothing was wrong, like he wasn’t stranded on top of a mountain and like his life wasn’t slipping away, she couldn’t do it-'' “I don’t want you to die!” She pleaded. “Y- you’re… I… I love you so much, and you’re my- you’re the most wonderful man and I don’t-” She sobbed. The emotion was wrenched out of her with a painful force. “''I don’t want you to go!” He didn’t say anything immediately. She tried to play damage control, to hold back the deluge, but every couple of moments her body shook with emotional force and she hiccupped a sob. “If it’s any consolation,” he said (it wasn’t), “I don’t fancy dying much either.” “Yeah.” She said, not sure what else to say. She sniffed. “Yeah, I… I can imagine.” “…I’m scared, Plue.” He told her. Well then. “What are you scared of, Aaron?” She asked. She suddenly felt a lot calmer, and couldn’t help but wonder if she’d cleared the denial hurdle. This was certainly it, this was really the final chapter, because Aaron- Aaron Wilder was never scared. Never. “I’m scared of leaving you behind.” He said. “I’m scared of not being in the world anymore. Just being a name. A statistic. A memory.” “Oh, Aaron.” Her heart ached. If this was what it was like to be left behind, she thought to herself, let me die as well. “Yeah.” He admitted. “It’s… pretty bad right now. Not gonna lie.” “I’ll remember you.” She promised. “And I’ll see Ruler of the sun for you. And I’ll look after ‘Anna, and tell her about you, and your parents. And if anyone asks – you were the best person I ever knew. Also, you… you were the one who always won at rock paper scissors. I can lie about that, at least. Make you… look good. Or something.” He laughed again, and it almost sounded like he was crying too now, and that wasn’t fair. “Plue,” he said. “You are… you’re one of a kind, you know that, right?” “So I’ve heard.” The knife was drawn a little out of her chest. Breathing was a little easier. “You’ll…” Aaron trailed off. Perhaps he wasn’t sure how to phrase what he wanted to say. “You’ll stay with me ‘til the very end, right?” He asked. She pretended like she couldn’t hear the agony in his own voice, like they weren’t, in fact, minutes or maybe moments away from their final farewell. She imagined that he was sitting right by her. Back home again. “’Til the very end, my love.” Category:Stories Category:Short Stories